


Ganymede

by Chifuyu



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Discussion of pederasty, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal, Manipulative little shit Will Graham, Mythology - Freeform, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5487869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chifuyu/pseuds/Chifuyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will could admit Hannibal was a talented artist, but that didn't mean he had to like what he drew.  He never considered himself in any way comparable to Ganymede.</p><p>Ganymede was the most beautiful of all mortals. Will was a mentally unstable FBI profiler with constant bed hair and dog hair clinging to his clothes at all times. He was nothing like Ganymede.</p><p>Naturally, Hannibal disagreed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ganymede

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alittlehuntress](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=alittlehuntress).



> This fanfiction is dedicated to [Alittlehuntress](http://alittlehuntress.tumblr.com), my lovely giftee from the Hannigram Holiday Exchange over at tumblr. I have to apologize in advance. I'm fairly certain that they meant an actual AU when they requested mythology, but this plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone and I finally had to succumb to this particular muse.
> 
> The whole thing is set after Yakimono but before Mizumono, meaning Will is aware of Hannibal being a cannibal and a serial killer.
> 
> I want to thank my beta reader [Universally Speaking](https://twitter.com/Lorna_316), who was so kind as to read over this hot mess and for offering so many kind word afterwards. Secondly, I want to thank my Ancient History professor whose paper on the ritualized abduction of boys in archaic Crete I referenced here. I bet he'd be so proud if he knew I included it in a piece of written porn.

Hannibal was a talented artist, Will had to admit. Proficient with pen and paint, fastidious in his details and determined to capture the original artist’s distinctive brushwork without sacrificing his own vision. Will let his fingers glide over the delicate lines on the paper lying disregarded on the small desk in Hannibal’s office. It was a black and white piece, unfinished but impressive nonetheless.

He had seen the original painting before:  _L’enlèvement de Ganymède_ by French painter Gabriel Ferrier. Oil on canvas. Approximately 107 x 71 inches in size. Ferrier had only been 27 years old when he painted it. It depicted a beautiful boy, unconscious in the hold of a giant eagle that was carrying him off to the skies. It was a popular, downright common motive: the abduction of Ganymede. Will’s expertise concerning ancient Greek mythology was rudimentary at best, but he had heard the tale of the beautiful youth captured by Zeus and elevated to Olympus. It was a sad story in his opinion.

The Ganymede on paper wasn’t as youthful as most artists chose to portray him: a young man instead of a boy, limbs strong with hints of muscle flexing underneath the skin despite being motionless in the hold of the eagle.

He wore Will’s face. Not as old as he was now and beardless, with his hair longer and framing his face in luxurious curls far from the bitter reality that was his constant bed hair. There were even flowers braided into it, much to Will’s amusement.

The skin on his doppelganger’s body was smoother than his own and healthier than it had been in many years. No scars, no calluses, all traces of a burdened life non-existent on the blissfully innocent face. Only the eyes he instantly recognized. In the original painting they were closed in silken slumber. Hannibal’s Ganymede met the viewer’s gaze with eyes sharing an uncanny resemblance to Will’s own: hunted and shadowed, more bitter than was befitting for the innocence the youth was supposed to embody. This Ganymede was aware of his fate and accepted it with grim determination.

“You drew me as Ganymede?” Will didn’t look up from the sketch in his hand.

Hannibal had been silent in his approach but he couldn’t fool Will. His presence demanded attention after all and, whenever he stepped into a room, it felt like an icy caress down the line of Will’s spine. Today, it was no different, despite the warmth provided by the logs crackling in the fireplace. How it was possible for Hannibal to ambush his victims unseen and undetected remained a mystery to him.

“Will that be the topic of today’s appointment?” was Hannibal’s calm reply. If he was bothered by Will’s ability to detect him so effortlessly then he didn’t show it.

His tone was even, merely a hint of amusement coloring the pleasant timbre of his voice as it washed over Will in a gentle wave. Will could feel himself relax, despite knowing what a reckless thing to do it was. This too, was part of what made Hannibal Lecter so dangerous. He had charm in abundance and used it shamelessly, like a siren luring guileless fishermen into their beautiful embrace before dragging them to their deaths.

Will turned around, drawing in one hand, the other stuffed into his pants pocket with his fingers curled around the handle of a small knife. He didn’t harbor any illusions over its effectiveness, but it was a comforting weight in his palm nonetheless.

He looked up to take in Hannibal’s appearance. It came as no surprise that he was as impeccably dressed as usual. He had forgone the three-piece suit and settled for a simple yet elegant dress-shirt and waistcoat combination; one that was presumably more expensive than all the pieces in Will’s wardrobe combined.

“I’m hardly a boy anymore”, Will remarked, indicating the sketch with a flick of his wrist.

Hannibal stepped closer, his eyes never straying from Will’s face as he took the unfinished sketch from him with gentle insistence.

“Yet there are characteristics you share with the boy that got swept away to become the cup-bearer of Zeus, don’t you agree?”

His fingers were warm where they brushed along Will’s skin. It never failed to amaze him how a creature such as Hannibal could feel so human, so alive and warm when, from afar, it always seemed like he was carved from ice and shadow.

“And those would be? I’m neither young nor beautiful. I’m not even blond”, Will huffed.

There was a soft tilt to Hannibal’s head, a twitch of his lips as if he wanted to argue with Will’s self-evaluation before he thought better of it.

“Often enough, blond hair is an indicator for otherness and not necessarily a true physical marker, especially in ancient texts”, he pointed out. “Don’t you believe yourself to be different? Is that difference not part of the reason you feel isolated from those around you?”

Will laughed. “Otherworldly beauty and social ineptitude are hardly comparable.”

He watched as Hannibal strode past him and returned the sketch to the desk.

“You’re everything but. Your empathy enables you to connect to people on a cellular level entirely impossible to obtain for others. It frightens you, but your social aptitude is an exceptional and beautiful gift.”

Will threw Hannibal a look, one brow raised in disbelief. Hannibal had called it a gift but it was little more than a burden - sometimes a useful but dangerous tool - and there was no beauty to be found in it.

“I admit that it has the potential to alienate you from common people in so far as that they’re lacking a deeper understanding of themselves, which you on the other hand acquire so effortlessly. However, my point remains: there’s potential in it. You simply need a guiding hand and have to surround yourself with people of less average disposition.”

The amused smile on Will’s face fell, twisting into something dark and velvety smooth.

“People like you?” he asked.

Hannibal had the good grace to refrain from acting indignant.

“Possibly. There’s a benefit in accepting guidance from a more experienced partner.”

He stepped closer to Will, hands in the pockets of his dress pants, no doubt in an attempt to appear casual and non-threatening. Will didn’t buy into it. As much as he was adverse to admitting it, they knew each other too intimately for such parlor tricks to work on him.

“The Ganymede myth was often considered the origin for the practice of pederasty. An older man, called the _erastes_ \- the lover - would take a young man or boy on the verge of manhood under his wings and teach him the customs of the _polis_ ”, Hannibal said, his tone that of a sage professor. 

“And what would the boy offer in return for the _erastes_ ’ guidance?” Will asked, drawing out the foreign word longer than necessary.

Hannibal crossed his arms behind his back and Will’s lips curled in amused anticipation of the lecture that was undoubtedly about to follow.

“Having the favor of an _eromenos_ , especially that of a beautiful and virtuous one brought great honor to a man”, he explained.

“And that’s all?”

Hannibal answered with a knowing smile.

“Of course not. As much as classical Athene in particular was fond of painting this bond between lover and beloved as something sacred and devoid of any sexual component, knowledge of man’s basic urges makes it doubtful. In some cases, we have literal evidence of intercourse. Mostly in the form of graffiti carved into the stone walls of ancient cities. Less common but indefinitely more insightful are handbooks that sanctioned certain practices while condemning others.”

“A sanctioned abuse of boys too young to know better then.”

Will pursed his lips in disgust. The topic of their conversation didn’t sit well with him; that Hannibal drew him as the poster boy for this kind of custom made his skin crawl and the fine hairs on the nape of his neck stand up.

“Not entirely”, Hannibal argued, his face carefully neutral as he took another step toward Will. “In archaic Crete boys were abducted by their suitors and lived with them for the duration of two months before returning to their _polis_. A boy returning to his city received several gifts that marked him as a man and was offered the opportunity to expose any abuse he might have suffered at the hands of his captor, thus giving him the power to discredit the older in front of the assembled community. A mighty tool that must have protected him from possible abuse.”

“And how many of these boys were brave enough to speak out against their supposed beloved? How many have remained silent in fear of more and severe punishment?”

Hannibal’s steps came to a halt, one brow cocked in question, and only then did Will realize that he had raised his voice. He wanted to apologize and found he couldn’t. There was a lump stuck in his throat, too big to swallow and impossible to choke down.

“It seems I’ve chosen a motive not to your taste. I shall destroy the sketch if it offends you this much”, Hannibal assured, the gentleness of his words feeling like a slap to Will’s face.

He coughed, desperate to loosen the knot in his throat. When he succeeded, his voice was weak and little persuasive.

“Is that how you see me? A little boy in need of grooming?”

“I see in you a potential that shouldn’t go to waste.”

“Like Zeus saw potential in Ganymede’s beauty? Something that shouldn’t be wasted by letting time run its natural course?”

Will knew he was acting irrational. His anger at an ancient myth, no matter how horrifying, was unjustified, yet he couldn’t manage to quench the spark of fury flaring up deep in his gut.

Hannibal overlooked his emotional outburst with his usual dignity. “He was made immortal. The only human to have ever received such an honor.”  
  
Will exhaled through his nose, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his eyes shining with contempt - not for Hannibal, but for Zeus.

“Doomed to an eternity at the side of your abuser. Lovely.”

“There is no literary evidence telling us of Ganymede’s standpoint, I fear”, Hannibal relented.

He let the sketch be, making no move to hand it over to the flames just yet, and sauntered closer to Will. There was a pointed grace to all his movement and an underlying danger usually found in carnivorans ready to pounce on their prey.

The realization came too late and Hannibal was on him before Will had any chance to react. It took Hannibal two purposeful steps and Will found himself pressed up against one of the bookcases in the office. Memories of an incident not too different resurfaced unbidden and with them came the same heat he had felt back then. Hannibal had cornered him, every inch the apex predator he considered himself to be, with Will as his defenseless prey.

Will growled, the sound so low it was hardly audible over the crackling of the fire. He would never be prey again and determination burned in his eyes as he forced himself to meet Hannibal’s searching gaze.

“You think Ganymede could have enjoyed the attention of a god?” he asked, licking his lips.

“I believe that it could have been possible for Ganymede to realize his own potential under Zeus’ care”, Hannibal replied.

“Is that what it is? Grooming Ganymede? Molding the boy into something Zeus perceives as better? As more refined?”

“Yearning to see the potential in a beloved person realized, is it so reprehensible?”

“There’s a difference in wanting to encourage your beloved and wanting to twist them into something you perceive as ideal.”

Hannibal was close enough for Will to smell his expensive aftershave. It was indeed far superior to his own.

“Something they aren’t? Or something they'd rather not be?” Hannibal pressed.

Will felt himself arch his back and crane his neck, his body unconsciously admitting defeat while his mind was still struggling.

“Who’s to decide what I am and what I am not?”

He only realized his mistake when Hannibal’s thin lips curled into a pleased little smile.

“So you believe my goal is to twist you into something you’re not?” Hannibal all but whispered.

Will’s answer was a glare cold as ice, but it did little to dampen Hannibal’s mood. His smile remained firmly in place and not even Will’s aftershave, which he must have been able to smell in such proximity, provoked any disparaging comments for once.

“I believe there’s something inside you that fights tooth and nail to break loose from the chains that are your human ethics. Yet you refuse to let that part of yourself roam freely. You fear what consequences it would entail.”

Will scoffed. “And which would those be?”

Hannibal hesitated. It was evident in the silence that followed; in the way he turned his head to the side for just a second, contemplating the question asked. Miniscule hints a casual observer might have overlooked. Will saw them and for a glorious moment it felt like victory, until Hannibal opened his mouth and spoke the words that tinted Will’s world red.

“You’re just like me.”

His hands were on Hannibal’s throat before the last syllable had died on his tongue. Will squeezed, animalistic satisfaction washing over him and growing stronger with every pained breath Hannibal took. He felt Hannibal’s throat constrict underneath his fingers, his Adam’s apple moving frantically while Will tightened his hold until nothing but gurgled gasps escaped.

There was no resistance. Hannibal’s breathing grew weaker but he remained standing, proud and unrelenting, his arms hanging uselessly at his side, not even twitching with the urge to defend himself. When Will dared to lift his gaze, his eyes met nothing but wicked satisfaction.

Will let go of as if he had been burned and his own breath came in quick bursts as he stumbled backwards, his fingers struggling to find purchase on the bookcase behind him.

Hannibal remained the epitome of composure, the only proof of Will’s assault the slightly undone tie, which he adjusted with quick, precise movements.

“I’m nothing like you”, Will whispered. He didn’t dare to look at Hannibal or the damage he must have done.

“Aren’t we long past denial, Will?” Hannibal’s voice was hoarse - to both Will’s immense satisfaction and unbridled horror - but it had lost nothing of its persuasive power.

“I’m nothing like you”, Will repeated, his grip on the bookcase strong enough to break splinters off the wood. They cut into his flesh and got stuck underneath his nails, anchoring him to reality in a most painful way.

The hand on his chin was warm and unexpectedly soft, gentle despite turning his head with an insistence that left Will little room for protest. Will had little choice but to look up. Hannibal’s eyes were mesmerizing. Brown, with specks of red only visible when the light hit them in a specific angle.

If the idea wouldn’t have been so entirely absurd Will would’ve said Hannibal’s expression mirrored one of love.

“Don’t hide. There is no need. I see you.”

Wrath and desperation moved Will’s body. He leaned in, closed the distance between them and buried his teeth in Hannibal’s lips, tearing until the soft flesh tore. Blood filled his mouth, the taste metallic and entirely too sweet.

No sound came from Hannibal despite Will’s savage assault and, when Will’s mouth was wet with blood, Hannibal started to respond with such tenderness it made Will want to rip his heart out with his bare hands. It was a gentle, affectionate kiss - patronizing in a way that made Will’s skin crawl with impotent rage. He tried to convince himself it was the kiss infuriating him so; tried to believe that the soft caress and the patience Hannibal displayed whenever Will returned a curious dip of his tongue with another vicious bite was nothing but false consideration.

He failed miserably. Will was furious, not at Hannibal, but at himself for losing his composure so easily and for enjoying this atrocious act more than he should - enjoying it at all.

His breath came hard when he pulled back, his lips wet with blood. Hannibal looked little better, with his lower lip torn and red smeared over the lower half of his face. Unlike Will, his breathing was even, not a single crack disrupting his inhuman composure. There was nothing but a captivating glint in his eyes. He waited.

For what, Will didn’t know. The tension was suffocating and the smell of copper in the air combined with the taste of it on his tongue made Will dizzy. He opened his mouth and closed it again with a snap. He wanted to scream at Hannibal, wanted to tell him how they were nothing alike. Instead, he licked some blood off his lips and swallowed with an audible gulp.

“I’m nothing like Ganymede”, he hissed.

Hannibal shook his head and lowered his eyes. Will didn’t doubt that Hannibal was well aware of how vulnerable it made him to more of Will’s attacks.

“Never have you been closer to him than now.”

Will stared at him, his lashes fluttering. Laughter was bubbling up in his throat, threatening to spill over his lips in hysterical giggles. Oh, how he wanted to guffaw right into Hannibal’s face. He was giving him the opening he so desperately needed, Will realized. He swallowed down any laughter and forced himself to meet Hannibal’s eyes.

“What would you teach me, _erastes_?” he purred, sarcasm thick on his tongue.

Hannibal didn’t take the bait.

“Acceptance. Confidence. Love”, he said, looking up once more to meet Will’s eyes.

Realization dawned on him that Hannibal waited for permission. Oh, how wicked he was, how utterly cunning, making Will an offer he could hardly refuse. He presented Will with the opportunity to give himself over to the illusion of control, to make himself believe he held a fraction of power over Hannibal, over the man who wouldn’t be caged, who had always eluded punishment, who had always valued his freedom above all else.

Silence enveloped them. Will felt blood rushing to his face and pounding in his ears, his own voice barely audible over the frantic beating of his heart.

“Teach me then.”

A raised brow was Will’s only warning, then Hannibal was on him. He curled an arm around Will’s waist and spun him around without another word, pressing him face-first against the bookcase, causing the neatly arranged books to rattle on their shelves.

Hannibal didn’t waste any time to return the previous favor and sunk his teeth into Will’s neck. Will gasped. He should have known Hannibal wasn’t just satisfied with harmless nips. His goal was to devour, to mark, to let the beast inside him outside its cage for just a little while. It burned when he pulled away, even more so when he dragged his tongue over the already bruising flesh. Unlike Will, Hannibal was careful not to break the skin and despite the iron hold he had on Will he made sure not to cause any lasting damage.

It was all about control, Will told himself as a pair of hands made quick work of his buttons. It was about dominance, he thought when the same hands pushed his freshly ironed dress shirt off his shoulders and moved further down to loosen the belt on his pants. It was about ownership, he concluded as sharp teeth and a greedy mouth sucked another mark into his skin.

He didn’t think anything at all when Hannibal moved his hand underneath the elastic waistband of his boxers and curled his fingers around his cock.

Will’s experience with men was limited at best, not going much beyond mutual handjobs in a college dorm room, or stolen glances in the communal showers. Nothing that came close to the electrifying mix of arousal and hatred he felt now, with Hannibal’s mouth on his neck and his fingers around his hardening cock.

To his horror, he heard himself moan when Hannibal started to stroke him in a painfully slow rhythm. The sound elicited a gentle hum from Hannibal in response and it dawned on Will that this was Hannibal’s way of expressing his approval.

“Usually, it was the duty of the younger to pleasure the older. Some even argued he should do it with blasé coldness. If at all, then an _erastes_ would touch his beloved like this”, he explained, voice soft and breathy. “He wouldn’t satisfy him orally. Submission in this form - to a boy, another man or a woman even - was considered effeminate and threatened a man’s social status.”

“So no blowjobs for me, I guess”, Will snorted, sounding only half as scathing as he had intended.

He was hard and needy, rolling his hips in rhythm with Hannibal’s lazy strokes to create more friction. In other circumstances he would’ve been embarrassed of his own lechery, but with Hannibal stroking him and whispering historical trivialities into his ear like they were dirty little secrets, it seemed to matter very little.

Hannibal’s chuckle rang clear like a bell in Will’s head. “I fear not, but there are other ways to ignite pleasure.”

Will didn’t bother to ask how or with whom Hannibal had acquired such a peculiar skill set. That was a question for another time and not for when he was in the middle of receiving a handjob in Hannibal Lecter’s office.

He moaned when Hannibal grazed his nails down the sensitive head and over the thick vein running at the underside until he reached the base of Will’s cock, tugging at the thick pubic hair there.

“I fear I have to re-evaluate my estimation of your semblance to Ganymede - at least partially. The ancient Greeks would’ve found that abundance of body hair appalling.”

Hannibal’s voice was smug, overly confident and far too casual for someone who was busy pleasuring another man with his hand.

Will leaned back, letting his head come to rest on Hannibal’s shoulder, his throat laid bare in an offering, and his teeth flecked with dried blood. Hannibal took the bait - fully knowing it for what it was, Will had no doubt - and pressed another kiss to his mouth. Will’s response was a bite, nowhere near as severe as their first, but hard enough to make Hannibal hiss into his mouth. It was meant as a warning, a none too gently reminder that he was neither a boy nor a little plaything.

This time, Will made sure not to break the skin and contented himself with nibbling on the sensitive flesh until it was red and swollen. His efforts were rewarded with a growl so salacious it made his skin tingle with excitement. It was a dangerous game he was playing, Will realized. One of careful seduction and just enough resistance to make Hannibal believe he was struggling with his own shaky morals, so he could pull Hannibal into his web without losing himself in the process of appealing to this monster posing as a man.

“Personally, I don’t find any part of your body disagreeable”, Hannibal whispered against Will’s open mouth. His voice had become breathy, his accent a little stronger than usual.

The hand not occupied with pumping his leaking cock inched closer to the waistband of his pants, tugging at the fabric playfully and Will rolled his hips in encouragement. In return, Hannibal tightened his grip and clicked his tongue in gentle reprimand.

“Did I not tell you the _eromenos_ was supposed to remain passive?”

“When did I agree to be? I asked you to teach me. I never said I’d be a diligent student.”

He felt Hannibal’s lips move against his skin, curled up into a smile.

“I imagine that was the case with many a young lover. Personally, I’m quite fond of those gifted with a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind.”

The hand on Will’s cock tightened, breaching the line between pleasure and pain and Will gasped, his throat moving as he swallowed a cry. He wouldn’t give Hannibal the satisfaction.

His legs started to shake, the muscles in his thighs convulsing as all sensations - good and bad alike - started to intermingle, creating a feeling so entirely new it threatened to overwhelm Will as it surged through his veins thick and scalding, burning him from the inside out.

Hannibal was cruel and gentle in equal measures, and for a moment Will wondered if Alana had experienced the nights in Hannibal’s arms in a similar way. Did he ever dare to touch her with such possessiveness? Did he make her cry out in pain? Did he hold her so tightly he caused colorful bruises to bloom on her soft flesh? No, Will realized with inexplicable certainty, he never did. Hannibal wouldn’t have dared to take off the mask he wore and show her the monster hidden underneath. Hannibal had only ever granted him this gruesome privilege.

He seemed to derive a perverse pleasure from edging Will on with just a flick of his wrist, while the teeth on Will’s neck provoked needy cries that echoed through the vast room. Half delirious with arousal, Will didn’t notice when Hannibal pulled his pants down together with his boxers until it was too late to act coy. It was the distinctive click of a switch blade that pulled him out of his lust induced haze and a shudder worked its way up Will’s spine as realization hit him. Hannibal had taken his knife from the pocket of his now discarded pants.

Will tensed up in anticipation of the blade cutting a bloody path into his flesh at any moment. It never came, to his relief or his disappointment he didn’t know, and he wouldn’t dare to explore that thought any further. Hannibal laughed ever so softly as he put the knife away - into his own pocket, Will assumed. It was hard to tell from his position.

He felt vulnerable, exposed even, and it had little to do with his nakedness.

No words were coming from Hannibal as he loosened his grip on Will’s erection. He remained silent even when his hands moved up from Will’s hips and groin, to rub soothing circles into the taught skin of his abdomen, lingering for a few moments on a spot next to his navel before following an invisible trail up to his chest.

Will hissed as Hannibal’s hands found his nipples and pinched. To his own mortification, they hardened instantly. He wanted to swear and curse and spit out profanities; what spilled past his lips instead was a guttural moan more befitting a wild beast than a human.

Like with everything Hannibal put his mind to, he showed a proficiency bordering on being uncanny. He knew instinctively where to touch to make Will shudder in delight, where to kiss his scorching skin to make the fine hairs on his neck stand up, where to push and pull and twist to warp Will into a primitive, mumbling mess capable of experiencing only desire.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was not prey, he was not a pretty plaything, no instrument Hannibal could pluck and play until his cries and moans composed a symphony for his entertainment. Will was no Ganymede.

Yet Hannibal had him bend over in the middle of his office, sweaty and needy, with his cock hard between his legs. Will told himself it was all part of the game they were playing, but it did little to help justify the wanton moans he couldn’t suppress and the eager responses his traitorous body gave in reply to Hannibal’s confident touch.

He gave Hannibal what he wanted to lull him into a false sense of security, Will argued with himself, as Hannibal put his hand on his back, one finger tracing down the line of his spine. Will arched up in false submission, presenting himself like a treat to feast on. He was rewarded with another kiss, this time between his shoulder blades. It was a weak argument at best.

Hannibal moved close, still fully dressed, and Will gasped. He was hard, his erection obvious even through the layers of clothes. It shouldn’t surprise Will as much as it did. Up until this moment, the impression that Hannibal was something not entirely human, something out of this world, cold and incapable of experiencing something as ordinary as desire, had prevailed in his mind. Now, the hard press of Hannibal’s cock against the cleft of his ass did a remarkable job of convincing him otherwise.

The sound of a zipper followed by the rustling of clothes tore him from his thoughts and his lips twitched with the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation: him, naked except for his shoes and socks, beads of sweat collecting in the small of his back while he was waiting to be fucked into submission. Hannibal in his formal attire, cock out, most likely not a single hair out of place, playing Will like a fiddle when it was supposed to be the other way around. One would think that he had learned his lesson a long time ago: nothing was ever easy with Hannibal Lecter involved.

Will licked his lips in tense anticipation. He prepared for pain, for humiliation intensified by merciless teasing, for Hannibal’s honey-tongued whispers and cutting words. He didn’t prepare for Hannibal’s hand to move from his chest up to his neck and chin, his fingers brushing over his lips and hesitating for a moment before pressing inside his mouth.

“I need you to wet my fingers thoroughly”, he mumbled.

Will, too surprised to bite down, felt himself complying without protest or second thought. Hannibal’s nails were perfectly manicured, his mind provided unhelpfully, the taste of rosemary and thyme lingering on Hannibal’s skin, almost drowned out by the sharp tang of citrus and pomegranate soap. Hannibal must have cooked earlier that day and washed his hands afterwards. The implications sent a shiver down Will’s spine.

“The general consensus in the ancient historical field is that in ancient Greece, sodomizing an _eromenos_ was entirely out of the question”, Hannibal explained unperturbedly, his fingers moving in and out of Will’s mouth in a lazy rhythm. “It would sullen the boy’s masculinity and make it impossible for him to become a proper man. I can imagine many _erastai_ were not much concerned with a boy’s honor though and considered it a risk worth taking in pursuit of their own pleasure.”

Hannibal pulled his fingers out of Will’s mouth a moment later. They were glistening wet with spit, mixed with the blood that had been clinging to Will’s lips, coloring it a pale rose. Will couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret at the loss. It had little to do with pleasure, but everything to do with the fact that there was nothing in his mouth to muffle his strained moans anymore. He took a deep breath, willing his body to stop shaking, and closed his eyes to wait for the inevitable pain of penetration.

It never came. Hannibal didn’t push inside him and Will was left to wonder why until the hot hard flesh of Hannibal’s erection slid between his thighs, wet with Will’s own saliva.

“Oh…” he gasped, both in realization and arousal.

Hannibal’s cock caused a pleasant drag along the underside of Will’s balls even though it burned, the glide only partially eased by the quickly drying saliva. Will couldn’t care less. His own cock was twitching with every careful thrust and he pressed his thighs tighter together, eager to increase the friction, much to Hannibal’s delight, judging from the pleased hum that followed Will’s move and the rough tongue pressing against the pulse point on his neck.

“I have to apologize”, Hannibal muttered, his nose pressed into the wiry expanse of Will’s shoulder. “I fear saliva is only a poor substitute for proper lube.”

Will was far from complaining. He leaked like a teenage boy touching himself for the first time, but Hannibal wasn’t so cruel as to point out the obvious. Instead, he jerked Will’s cock until he spilled more precum, covering Hannibal’s hand with the slick substance. It was degrading in a way, but Will had little time to dwell on it, or be mortified at the ease with which Hannibal manipulated his body.

He whined softly as Hannibal pulled back from between his thighs. For a moment, anxiety overcame him, an inexplainable fear that Hannibal would retreat now that he had made it clear who held the reigns in this race of deception and seduction, leaving Will ashamed and humiliated.

His fears proved unfounded as the considerably wetter length of Hannibal settled between his legs once more. The slide was easier now and Hannibal didn’t hesitate to fuck Will’s thighs in earnest this time around.

Will was pushed into the bookshelf he had held onto, sending a few of the precious tomes tumbling down in a messy heap, no doubt causing numerous creases and rips. Hannibal didn’t even deign to look at them. His movements didn’t falter and his thrust remained precise, unrelenting, almost ferocious in their intensity. It was only a matter of time until Will’s legs would give out underneath him. Already did the muscles in his calves tremble with the effort to hold him upright. If he was quite honest then Will hadn’t expected the same relentless pursuit of perfection that Hannibal showed in his professional and social lives to translate so seamlessly into the bedroom. He had proven Will wrong once more.

Hannibal’s fine, silver hair had come undone by now, tickling Will whenever he pressed his forehead against the shifting muscles of Will’s back to mumbled sweet nothings into the skin, as if they were prayers intended for a god whose only prophet was Will.

“ …while one loves boys in the lovely flowers of youth, desiring their thighs and sweet mouths…”

He stumbled in his speech once, twice, his voice raspy as he whispered into Will’s ear, and not for the first time since this madness had begun was Will glad that Hannibal couldn’t see his face. His lashes fluttered with every thrust, his mouth hung open as he tried and failed to contain his needy cries. Yet, the corners curled up in a smile and sexual pleasure began to blur with grim satisfaction. So even Hannibal Lecter had to surrender to the pleasures of the flesh, tripping over words and phrases as instinct overtook reason.

Will moaned without restraint, Hannibal’s name on the tip of his tongue whenever another thrust threatened to make him come undone. It was maddening. Hannibal’s stiff cock rubbing along the underside of his own leaking erection sent jolts of pleasure tingling down the curve of his spine, not enough to make him cum but enough to make him want to beg. He panted and moaned, throat raw from the depraved cries escaping it.

How the boys of old times subjected to this treatment could have been expected to remain passive during the remainder of such activities was beyond Will. It was nothing more than an unnecessary and cruel punishment in the guise of a lesson for life.

Surprisingly enough, Hannibal wasn’t as malicious as the ancient Dorians. On the contrary, he seemed to delight in every noise, every shaky breath his touch evoked. Will’s desperate moans were rewarded with delicate kisses pressed to his heated skin and every one of his gasps was answered with a powerful thrust of Hannibal’s hips.

“Hannibal…” Will whispered, the name a plea, a prayer and a curse all at the same time.

No more words were needed. Hannibal understood.

“As you wish”, he muttered, the hand holding Will in place tightening its grip on his waist, undoubtedly leaving crescent-shaped marks as Hannibal’s nails sank into the soft flesh. His other hand sneaked around Will’s front and grabbed his neglected cock none too gently.

A scream tore itself from Will’s throat and he was never more grateful that Hannibal scheduled their sessions so that he was the last on the list of patients for the day. It wouldn’t do his already damaged pride any favors to be heard by another of Hannibal’s clients while they were waiting just outside the door for the good doctor to receive them.

Hannibal curled his fingers around both their cocks, his suit-clad chest pressed against Will’s damp back. A spark of malicious glee ignited in Will’s belly at the thought of his sweat and the remains of his aftershave bleeding into the expensive fabric of his waistcoat, ruining it without a chance of salvation.

Then every coherent thought was crushed underneath a wave of blinding pleasure. His toes curled in his shoes and this time he wasn’t above begging and pleading, a litany of please and Hannibal rushing past his lips until he couldn’t take it anymore and met Hannibal’s thrusts with erratic rolls of his own hips. His fingers trembled when he moved his hand to cover Hannibal's, their fingers intertwining as their combined movements grew more frantic with every passing second.

When Will came, it felt like defeat, yet sweet in a way it shouldn’t. Will felt little inclination to analyze this mayhem of emotions, too exhausted even to properly appreciate the way Hannibal tensed up behind him soon after and covered Will’s thighs and cock with his cum.

His knees felt weak, trembling dangerously and Will would have toppled over for sure if Hannibal had not held him upright, his grip firm on his hips. A gentleman through and through, Will thought and allowed himself a small but fond smile.

They remained like that for a few blissfully silent moments until Hannibal shifted and his softening cock slipped from between Will’s thighs. The hand previously around their erections loosened its grip and pulled away, almost completely covered in their combined bodily fluids.

Will couldn’t see, but he could very well hear the wet sounds that followed, the drag of a tongue over skin as Hannibal licked the cum off his hands, purring like an oversized and impossibly pleased cat.

“What are you doing?” Will whispered in horrified awe.

“Devouring you.”

Another shiver ran through Will’s exhausted body at Hannibal’s words. He had not forgotten what Hannibal was, what he did, but the casual playfulness in which those words were delivered shook him to the core nonetheless. It was as much as a confession as it could be and Will wasn’t so foolish as to take it for anything less.

“I think I'd rather not take you as my teacher after all”, he mumbled, taking one shaky step away from Hannibal.

It was easier said than done and he almost stumbled over his own feet twice. His inner thighs felt sticky and wet, but he pulled up his boxers and pants nonetheless. It was harder still to turn and face Hannibal. Will prolonged the inevitable as much as he could, picking his rumpled shirt off the ground and pulling it over his shoulders with deliberate slowness. It was only half tugged into his pants, the buttons on it not properly fastened, when he finally willed himself to turn.

Hannibal was already dressed, immaculate as usual, the only signs betraying their previous activities being his disheveled hair and a wet spot just underneath the breast pocket of his waistcoat.

“Did I prove an inadequate teacher or an inadequate lover?” he asked, doing a remarkable job at sounding sincere in his inquiry.

Will exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again to regard Hannibal with as much cool detachment as he could muster.

“Yes.” A small pause. “And no.”

“I was under the impression one encompassed the other.”

“You were wrong.”

Hannibal didn’t smile, but the mirthful glint in his eyes was impossible to ignore. He put his hand into one pocket, pulling out the knife he had taken from Will earlier and let the honed edge spring free with a flick of his wrist.

“Was I?” he asked.

Will didn’t bother with a reply, his gaze trained on the knife in Hannibal’s hand.

Hannibal turned it with careless ease, holding onto the naked blade while the handle pointed in Will’s direction. Will didn’t take him up on the obvious offer.

“I won’t be your cup-bearer”, he said, voice firm and eyes unrelenting. “I won’t be your student. I won’t be your Ganymede.”

Hannibal remained silent, yet when Will turned to leave without retrieving his knife, the voice in his head whispering ‘ _Liar_ ’ over and over again sounded like him.

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Illustration of Will Graham as Ganymede](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10672908) by [TheSeaVoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSeaVoices/pseuds/TheSeaVoices)




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